


Through Dark and Light I Fight to Be

by SilverWolf_45



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone are idiots at one point, Gabriel and Beelzebub are meddling again, God is Our Narrator, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Literally I hear her voice while I wrote this, M/M, Multi, Parenting at its Finest, ineffable parents, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29974059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWolf_45/pseuds/SilverWolf_45
Summary: It has been a year, 3 days, 5 hours, 7 minutes, and 23.4 seconds since Crowley and Aziraphale had helped stop Armageddon, and quite a bit had happened to the pair since that fateful Saturday. On this day, the horoscope in the Tadfield Advertiser for Libra read as follows:This is the day to take up something new, whether it be a book, hobby, or outfit! Forsome, this day may be extra complex and unpredictable, so tread with caution. Bothallies and enemies alike, though they may have left you alone for a while, might try and sneak back intoyour life again. Let them be, and someone higher than you may resolve any troubles they might cause.Travel seems dicey, so avoid busy and popular roads.Or basically, a post-canon story about Crowley and Aziraphale having a daughter
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Original Child(ren) of Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Original Child(ren) of Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 3





	Through Dark and Light I Fight to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello friends, thanks for stopping by. I've had this idea floating up in my big semi-empty noggin for a while, and I rewatched Good Omens the other day and I said screw it, we'll write the damn thing. I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or anything like that but we die like men so.  
> I do not own Good Omens, Fleetwood Mac and their works, The Velvet Underground and their works, or Ólafur Arnolds and his works (his song 'So Close' was the inspiration for the title, I highly recommend)  
> Yeah so anyway if you're still reading this, enjoy my brain garbage and nerd out you amazing human beans.

Now, it had been a year, 3 days, 5 hours, 7 minutes, and 23.4 seconds since Crowley and Aziraphale had helped stop Armageddon, and quite a bit had happened to the pair since that fateful Saturday. On this day, the horoscope in the Tadfield Advertiser for Libra read as follows: 

This is the day to take up something new, whether it be a book, hobby, or outfit! For  
some, this day may be extra complex and unpredictable, so tread with caution. Both  
allies and enemies alike, though they may have left you alone for a while, might try and sneak back into your life again. Let them be, and someone  
higher than you may resolve any troubles they might cause. Travel seems dicey, so avoid busy and popular roads. 

Surprisingly, this horoscope had been accurate from start to finish, for most Libras  
on this day. Every Libra in the Oxford area, in fact, except for one Isla Huddlen, whose day was the same as yesterday, and had made it to her job in Bexleyheath from her home in Enfield in almost record time. 

Our story truly begins at 8 in the morning at St. James Park, where Crowley and Aziraphale were sitting on their bench, watching as the ducks swam around the pond. This day was particularly special for both of them because they were expecting something great. Something no one had been introduced to before, and something that they had pondered over for some time. Aziraphale more so. 

“Crowley? May I ask you a question?” Aziraphale questioned, slightly wringing his hands in his lap as he leaned a little closer to the demon sprawled beside him. 

“You just did, Angel,” Crowley pointed out, smirking at his joke, but leaving space for Aziraphale to ask. 

“What do you suppose it would be like? Difficult? Do you think we could do it? My dear, are we sure that our previous, erm, head offices won’t interfere?” 

“Well, Angel,” Crowley began, and the following words out of his mouth had been carefully thought out for weeks, knowing Aziraphale would eventually muster the courage to acknowledge his worries. “We had done it once before, and that turned decently, to say the least. And don’t say that this situation is different because it’s not. And our former head offices won’t touch this if they know what’s good for them. I think we made the point pretty clear.”

“Alright, if you say so, my dear,” Aziraphale agreed, though his hands still fidgeted slightly in his lap. He shifted his head away from Crowley and tried to focus on the park. The way the subtle wind rustled the leaves on their trees, and the way it felt through his hair, over his favorite cream coat, and his fidgety hands. Aziraphale decided that focusing on the air was good for him, so he shut his eyes and breathed. 

While he did that, Crowley focused on Aziraphale. His Angel was tense, and Crowley knew that tension had been building for quite some time. Crowley also had tension and apprehension about the upcoming situation but buried it because he couldn’t focus on that right now. How could he, anyway? After all, Crowley was currently paying attention to Aziraphale at the moment. 

Aziraphale and Crowley sat on that park bench for the next couple of hours, watching as both duck and people alike came and went from the park.  
At around one, the both of them got up without a word and walked back to Crowley’s Bentley, from which they drove off to Crowley’s flat. 

The events that occur after can only be described by one word: ineffable. Of course, this does not mean that the events can be left up for interpretation. Whether you want to believe that it was Aziraphale who was doing the heavy-lifting while Crowley provided him the encouragement or vice versa, these ineffable events ended with one outcome. And that outcome was a baby. 

It has to be understood that this baby was purely of Aziraphale and Crowley. There was no middleman, or middlewoman, to be more accurate, because Crowley and Aziraphale do not conform to the typical human gender. Therefore it is perfectly logical for them to be able to have a child together.

So there they were, all three of them sitting on Crowley’s bed. Though they sat in the middle of the bed, Crowley was on the left and Aziraphale on the right. Between them was their child, a baby girl. Currently, they were trying and failing to agree on a name for her. 

“Perhaps we should name her Damaris? It is perfect for her, meaning tame and gentle,” suggested Aziraphale, who slightly stroked the side of the baby girl’s face. 

“Angel, you can’t possibly know what name is perfect for her, we don’t even know her that well yet. Her personality is yet to be determined,” said Crowley, whose finger was wrapped by the baby’s hand. “How about Jane? Little, sweet Jane.”

“Oh, that’s nice, my dear. Sweet Jane...sweet Ja- Crowley. Crowley, my dear. I do not want our daughter to be named after a bee bop song.” said Aziraphale, his eyes briefly glancing up at the demon beside him. 

“Worth a shot, Angel,” Crowley said, also looking upward to catch the eyes of his Angel. Then, he had an idea. One that would blend perfectly with Aziraphale wanting a name with meaning and Crowley wanting a name with amazing classic rock origins. 

“How about Rhiannon? It means great queen or goddess,” Crowley suggested, looking back down to his sleeping daughter. Aziraphale sat up a little straighter and shifted his gaze back to the little girl between him and Crowley. Aziraphale studied her face, and thought for the next couple of minutes, tossing the name around in his head. 

“I think it suits her, my dear.” agreed Aziraphale, and he smiled at Crowley, to which Crowley responded with a little smirk of his own. 

“Well then, Angel, I think you are losing your hospitable touch. We have to welcome her to our world, Angel.” remarked Crowley, mischief glinting in his yellow eyes. Aziraphale playfully scoffed at that, knowing Crowley was only joking. Aziraphale would never forget his manners. 

“Welcome to our world, Rhiannon my dear.” greeted Aziraphale. At that moment, both he and Crowley swore privately in their minds that Rhiannon gave them a little smile.

\-------------------

The last time we saw Anathema Device and Newton Pulsifer, they had just received Agnes Nutter’s secret, second book of prophecies named ‘Further Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter Concerning the Worlde that is To Com: Ye Saga Continued’. That was a year, 3 days, 5 hours, 7 minutes, and 23.4 seconds ago, so you can imagine the large dent Anathema has made in it. 

Surprisingly, she had not gotten far. This was due to the fact that Anathema was used to memorizing her ancestor’s prophecies, not translating and making meaning of them. But, the work had to be done, so Anathema must persist. That and her mother pushed the concept that it was Anathema’s birthright to do so. 

So at around eight that morning, the same morning in which Crowley and Aziraphale watched the ducks, Anathema stubbled across a rather peculiar prophecy, number 365,357. That prophecy reads as follows:

"So let it be that a year and almost half a week after the Ende a child will be welcomed into the  
worlde by both Heaven and Hell. The child’s name will be derived from a Life Becoming a Landslide,  
and that child will mean a queen. This child is the perfect mix between what is good and what is  
tempting, though it will never pick one over the other. The child shall come into herself after  
everything she cares about in this worlde is threatened."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and I will try to update when I can. Feel free to go ham in the comments, and I love you all, you beautiful human beans. Have a good day, night, or whatever.


End file.
